Nasty Little Rumors
by I am The Lev
Summary: The Sheriff manages to catch Robin and the outlaws by setting up a fake fair. The gang's only hope to get out of the dungeons is their newest member, Morgan. Unfortunately, she has problems of her own. Sequel to It's a Matter of Trust.
1. Brilliant

This is my second story, the first being "It's a Matter of Trust." If you haven't read that one, you probably should before you read this one. Seeing as series two is still running, there are bound to be discrepancies between the events in the show and the events in my stories. Just a warning. At any rate, I hope you enjoy!

---

"Why have we stopped, imbecile?" the nobleman asked, leaning his head out of his carriage. The driver turned back to face him.

"There's a girl in the road, sir," he explained. The noble rolled his eyes.

"Did you tell her to get out of the way?" he asked impatiently.

"I can't, sir. She's unconscious." The nobleman was amazed at the simplicity of his driver.

"Then run her over," he instructed, as if running someone over with one's carriage was perfectly acceptable behavior. The driver made a movement to drive forward, but he quickly turned about again.

"I can't, sir." The nobleman sighed.

"Why not?" he asked, getting angry.

"She's pointing an arrow at my head," the driver replied, almost sadly. The nobleman exited his carriage, stepping about so as to see this woman. She had stick-straight, raven-colored hair, kept back by a leather headband. Her green eyes flitted between the driver and the nobleman almost playfully. There was the bit where she was pointing an arrow at his driver's head, but the nobleman hardly thought that she was of any concern.

"Her? You're scared that _she_ is going to shoot you? That little scrap?" The nobleman asked.

"Oy! I _can_ hear you!" the girl spoke up. "By the way, your gold, your silver, your jewels, please." The nobleman laughed, which was probably a mistake.

"Please. You point an arrow at my driver, and all of a sudden you're Robin Hood? Is that how it works?" The nobleman asked, laughing. The girl shook her head.

"No. _He's_ Robin Hood," she spared a second to point with her bow and arrow before returning its aim to the driver, "and we'll have your silver, your gold, and your jewels. That's how it works. And I thought nobles were supposed to be smart."

The nobleman blanched, slowly turning to face the direction in which the girl had pointed. He was surprised to find that he was surrounded. The skinny man that the girl had pointed out had an arrow pointed at him, grinning widely as the rest of the gang moved in.

"You heard the girl. Gold, silver, jewels," Robin ordered. The nobleman gulped and moved to his carriage, opening the rather obvious trunk. It was full to the top with coins. With months of experience under their belts, the outlaws made quick work of it, stashing the coins into smaller bags, ready to hand them out to the poor of Nottinghamshire.

They were about to leave the nobleman, but when the rest of the group started to walk away, Will stayed behind. Djaq gave him a light push.

"Will, we're going." He held up a hand, stepping towards the wagon.

"The wood is different," he muttered, squatting by the carriage, tapping on the side. The rest of the gang had stopped by now, turning back to see what was going on. Will tapped at the panel some more, pulling his axe from his belt, taking precise swings at the panel, ignoring the nobleman's protests. The panel broke easily, revealing a compartment, filled with swords and armor.

"Morgan, I think he's your replacement!" Djaq called, beckoning Morgan over. She knocked the driver out, making sure he wouldn't try to get away without her pointing an arrow at his head, and climbed onto the top of the carriage. She dangled her legs over the side, watching as Will and Djaq removed swords from the compartment. Morgan wrinkled her nose, taking one of the swords, inspecting it.

"Some replacement," she commented, holding the sword at arms length, "Shoddy quality, this. Not being funny, but you're really rotten at this." The "nobleman" looked affronted.

"I'll have you know that I was specially requested by the Sheriff of Nottingham!" he defended himself, drawing himself up. "This is my finest work."

"Have you ever considered taking up weaving?" Morgan asked, her expression completely serious.

"Young lady, I was specifically requested by the Sheriff," the other repeated, "He needs new weapons for him men before the fair." The gang exchanged glances.

"Yeah, you know all the dangers at the fair. Small children, happy peasants. Very dangerous," Djaq nudged Will, who smiled at her joke.

"The guards are to protect the big prize. The Sheriff's holding some sort of contest, so I brought my finest work, so that the guards can do their job," the castle's new black still managed to sound arrogant, despite the fact that Morgan was staring at him, muttering things like, "no-talent hack" and "me gran could do better." Suppressing a laugh, Robin called to his gang.

"Let him go." There was a general look of disbelief among the members of the gang, except for Much, who knew Robin's facial expressions well enough to tell that he was up to something.

Much had grown to dislike the look that currently adorned Robin's face. Surely, it mean that he'd come up with a plan, but it also entailed that whatever he'd come up with was reckless and most likely insane. Much found that he could often figure out what Robin was planning, but he also found that he often disliked it.

The castle's new blacksmith didn't take the opportunity to leave for granted, waking his driver up and pulling away, barely giving Morgan time to hop off of the top of the carriage.

"Loony, that one," she grumbled, watching as the cart sped off.

"Robin, why did we let him go?" Little John asked, asking the question of everyone's mind. Robin's grin widened, but he said nothing, looking at Much in a knowing way before starting back to the camp. Much frowned, starting to connect things.

"Master, surely not!" he called following. Morgan frowned.

"What just happened?" she asked. Djaq and Will exchanged glances, knowing perfectly well what was going to happen, walking after Much. Morgan went to Little John.

"John? Did I miss something?" Little John laughed, clapping a hand on Morgan's shoulder before following Djaq and Will. Morgan looked around the now empty clearing, tilting her head to the side.

"Oy! What's going on? Guys?" she called after the gang, jogging to catch up.

---

"And you're sure that they thought you were a blacksmith?" the Sheriff asked, though he was more interested in eating the plum in his hand then listening to the man in front of him.

"Yes, my lord. They found the hidden panel, just as you said they would. I was sure to mention the fair, just as you asked, sir," the man stuttered, taking off his hat, wringing the brim in his hands. The Sheriff nodded, though he hadn't really heard a word of what the man was saying. He didn't have to listen to people, that's what he had Gisborne for.

"Gisborne, pay the man," he instructed, not bothering to hide his boredom. His plan was simple enough. Draw the outlaws into the fair, have some inane contest with a large prize. They were sure to show there faces. If that didn't work, he could always have a hanging. That always seemed to attract Hood. Gisborne's new little friend, Alex, or whatever his name was, had been kind enough to tell him all of the outlaw's entrances.

Of course, he wouldn't put guards on them, not until he had confirmation that the outlaws were actually in the city. Easier to get in than out, he figured. He looked ahead, surprised to see the grubby, little peasant was still standing there.

"Gisborne, why is the grubby, little peasant still here?" he asked. Gisborne didn't reply. The Sheriff looked to his right. Gisborne wasn't even in the room.

"Oh," he shrugged. He signaled to the guard by the door. "Where's Gisborne?"

"He's out making sure that everyone knows about that announcement you told him to make, my lord," the guard explained.

"Oh," the Sheriff said. "Very well then. Throw this man in the dungeon." The grubby, little peasant looked surprised.

"My lord?" he asked, confusion in his voice.

"I don't like your hat," the Sheriff explained. "Take him away." He smiled as the grubby, little peasant burst into tears. He took a bite of his plum. Today was going to be a good day.

---

"Alright, we'll go in through the west gate. Djaq, Will, you'll find out about this "big" contest. John, Much, and I will get the layout for the fair, just in case things go south," Robin said calmly.

"Master, there is surely a trap," Much interrupted. Robin nodded.

"Yes, the contest is surely a trap," Robin agreed with a nod, though the smirk hadn't left his face. "Which is why we're going to find the prize and steal it before the contest even starts." Morgan, who was chewing thoughtfully at an apple, swallowed and spoke.

"Robin, what about me? Am I with Djaq and Will?" she asked, taking another chunk of the apple off with a knife, popping it into her mouth. Robin shook his head.

"You can't go back to the castle yet. All of the guards know who you are. They'll be looking for you. I need you to do something else," he explained. Morgan was intrigued.

"Aye, what is it, then?" she asked.

"I need you to get information. About a man named Roger of Stoke," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "This is important, Morgan. I need to know if he made it out of Nottinghamshire or not." Morgan nodded, swallowing again.

"Right. I know just who to talk to about it. I'll be back soon," she announced, putting her knife away, dashing into the woods.

---

They made it in without a problem, which honestly caught Robin off guard. He was sure that Allan would've told Gisborne about all of their entrances by now. The group scattered, blending in with the crowd.

"Robin, something isn't right," John growled under his breath. Robin nodded. There was a level of rigidity to the atmosphere that was simply eerie. There were games set up, but no one was playing. There were entertainers about, but they weren't entertaining.

There was definitely a fair, Robin knew that. He'd been hearing about it for few weeks now, every time they had gone into town. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. How had he not seen it? Robin sighed, disappointed with himself. Of all the things to fall for!

"John, find Djaq and Will. We've got to get out of here. Now." John nodded, moving through the crowd with relative ease. Much looked back at Robin.

"The contest was not the trap?" Much asked. Robin shook his head.

"The whole fair is the trap?" Much guessed. Robin nodded.

"And that man was not a blacksmith," Much pointed out. Robin shook his head.

"Well, of all the nerve. Pretending to be a noble, when you are in fact a blacksmith is one thing, but pretending to be a blacksmith pretending to be a noble is just wrong," Much decided, nodding as if the action validated his statement. Robin scanned the crowd, hoping that John would find the others and get back. If Robin had figured everything correctly, it was only a matter of time before…

"People of Nottingham! Thank you for participating in the big contest!" The Sheriff's voice boomed from the courtyard. "In recognition of your efforts, I, Vasey, Sheriff of Nottingham, declare that you all win the big prize! None of you will hang today! Now, onto business! Robin! I know you can hear me, Hood! My guards will be searching for you! In the meantime, have fun trying to get out of the city!" Robin sighed, pulling his cloak tighter around him.

"Well," Much mumbled, "You have to admit. It was clever, having the whole of Nottingham pretend there was going to be a fair." Robin shot Much a glare.

"Well, being mad at me won't help. I don't suppose you have a plan to get us out of here?" Another glare. Much nodded. "Right. So we're trapped in Nottingham, the guards are closing in, and the only member of our gang that isn't in here with us has skipped off to God-only-knows where." Robin glared once more. Much sighed.

"Brilliant."


	2. Perfect

Here's the second chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

---

The first thing that Will had taught her was the various paths to take in the forest. Paths for moving quickly. Paths for avoiding guards. Paths that would keep you near a source of water. It was an awful lot to remember, and Morgan had a terrible sense of direction, especially when she was surrounded by trees that all looked sort of the same. Nonetheless, Will had told her it was important, so she'd learned the paths.

She was glad that she had, otherwise it would've been a long walk. As it was, she practically skipped along, finishing off her apple and tossing the core into the woods.

She felt special, being sent on a mission by herself. She guessed that it was Robin's way of making sure she could handle the responsibility if left to her own devices. Excited as she was about proving herself to the gang, she had a feeling of dread rising in her stomach.

She was confident she could get the information Robin was looking for, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to deal the source of the information. Little choice, now. She'd already told Robin that she would find out what she could. She came up on Nettlestone village, going to the cottage in the very center of town, opening the back window. An elderly woman was inside, sweeping.

"Poppy!" Morgan whispered, causing the woman to jump.

"Oh, Morgan, you nearly scared the life out of me! What're you doing?" The woman asked casually, returning to her sweeping. Morgan looked about before jumping through the window, closing the shutter behind her.

"I need information, Poppy," Morgan asked, smiling the best she could manage. The older woman laughed, handing Morgan the broom, sitting on the small bed near the wall. Morgan sighed and began sweeping.

"Talk of the town is that you've been abducted by outlaws," Poppy mentioned. Morgan shook her head.

"Not quiet," she muttered, picking her words carefully. Poppy was a notorious gossip. It was useful when you needed to know something. At the same time, she was always listening, never hesitating to pass on the latest news, whether you wanted her to or not. Morgan had been on the receiving end of Poppy's storytelling before and didn't want to relive the experience. "But I was never here, Poppy. Understand?"

"Of course, child, but if someone happens to catch you on your way out, that's no fault of mine," she cautioned. Morgan frowned.

"I didn't see any guards out there. What're you going on about, Poppy?" The older woman crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head.

"Morgan, you know that I don't let good bits like that slip by without payment," she held out a hand. Morgan grinned sheepishly.

"I don't have any money, Poppy," she admitted. She'd given what little she had to the large poor chest back at the camp. The old woman smiled, showing her lack of teeth.

"Perhaps you could then pass some information to me, child," she suggested. Morgan leaned on the broom, shrugging.

"I doubt I could tell you anything that you don't already know," she said flatly. Poppy's toothless smile widened.

"That lad you fancy, Allan A Dale. Rumor has it that he turned on Robin Hood," Poppy trailed off. Morgan tried not to squirm, knowing that her every movement was under scrutiny.

"My _friend_ Allan did leave Robin's gang after a disagreement," she corrected, trying not to say anything incriminating about either Allan or Robin. Poppy nodded.

"Alright, child. Whatever makes you feel better. Guy of Gisborne's put a reward out for you. Twenty pieces of silver to return you safely to the castle," Poppy divulged. Morgan was absolutely stunned.

"Twenty pieces of silver? Just what is he aiming at?" she mused aloud.

"Speaking of Guy of Gisborne, is it true that you two are engaged?" Poppy steered the conversation towards more dangerous waters. Morgan, however, had expected this much and crossed her arms over her chest.

"If I tell you, I need you to give me information about a man named Roger of Stoke," she haggled. Poppy's eyes brightened, which was both a good and bad thing. It meant that she definitely knew about Roger, but it also meant that Morgan was going to have to hand over more information.

"You tell me about you and Gisborne, and tell me what you're up to right now, and I'll tell you about Roger of Stoke." Morgan considered this for a moment before nodding.

"Guy did propose, but that's all done with now. I'm with Robin Hood right now," she whispered, not seeing any harm in telling the crazy old bat that she was an outlaw. Morgan was surprised that stories of her sudden disappearance with Robin's gang hadn't already reached Poppy. "Now, what about Roger of Stoke?"

Poppy adopted an air of sympathy.

"That's a sad business, child," she began, shaking her head. Morgan braced herself. The theatrics could only mean one thing. "The poor boy was murdered, not too long ago. Lacy from Nottingham saw it with her own two eyes. He stops in, talks with someone, starts to ride out. Gisborne swoops down like a hawk, stabs the poor lad right in the back and rides him off to the castle." Morgan gulped.

"That's absolutely terrible. Who did he meet in Nottingham?" Morgan asked before she could stop herself. Poppy raised an eyebrow.

"The pendant at your neck," she bargained. Morgan closed her hand around the wooden tag, thrown by Poppy's simple request.

"It's from Robin. Now, who did Roger meet in Nottingham?" she repeated. Poppy stood, taking her broom back and shaking her head at Morgan.

"You'll not like it," she warned. Morgan narrowed her eyes. The old woman sighed. "Alright, don't say I didn't warn you, Morgan." Morgan began to shift nervously, not wanting to say too much longer, in case someone saw her and decided that they wanted twenty pieces of silver.

"The last person to talk to Roger of Stoke is the same person who turned him over to Gisborne. That boy you fancy, Allan A Dale."

---

The dungeons were as she remembered them, although Djaq had noticed that there was a new jailer. The Sheriff had probably gotten sick of the previous one's failure to keep prisoners in their cells. Captured one by one, they had all been thrown into the same cell. The Sheriff was pacing in front of them, beside himself with glee.

"One, two, three, four, and five. Gisborne is taking care of number six as we speak. I knew today would be a good day," he almost sang, flourishing his hands as he numbered them off.

"A morning hanging, I should think. Something to get the blood flowing. Tomorrow. Enjoy your stay, Hood. Other ones," he said as a way of goodbyes, sweeping out of the dungeon. As soon as he was gone, the outlaws turned to each other.

"Does anyone have a plan?" Robin asked, looking around the circle. He didn't get a reply.

"Even if you pick the locks and get out of here, the Sheriff has every entrance and exit blocked. You won't find a way out unless someone in the castle helps you," a voice said from outside the cell. Allan had his back to them, glancing casually over his shoulder at the people that had been like family to him. He took the muttering of "traitor" in stride, giving them time to let it out before he continued.

"Jailer, aren't you expecting a delivery tonight?" he asked.

"Water for the prisoners," the man grunted. Allan nodded.

"I'll have it brought down later," he muttered, leaving the dungeon. The jailer grunted again, continuing his rounds.

"Was he trying to tell us something?" Will asked, jerking his head after Allan. Much shrugged.

"Who knows with him?"

---

Morgan hadn't stopped frowning at Poppy for the past ten minutes. How dare she imply that Allan had meant to get that man killed? Morgan didn't doubt that he'd turned Roger over to Gisborne, but there was no way that he meant for him to die. Stealing and lying, yes, but Allan wasn't a murderer.

Yet, regardless of how annoyed she was with the gossiping old bag, she had told her what she wanted to know. Roger of Stoke clearly hadn't made it out of Nottingham. Unfortunately, this business with Guy of Gisborne and his reward was proving to be troublesome. Morgan peeked out of the window, trying to leave without anyone seeing her.

"You know, Morgan, If you give me information about the Holy Land, I might be able to sneak you out of here without a problem," Poppy offered. Morgan shook her head. She didn't know any gossip from the Holy Land that she could tell Poppy.

"Sorry, Poppy. Out of luck there," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. Poppy laughed in that loud, grating way that always told Morgan that she needed to get out before it got ugly.

"Too bad. Have fun, child." Morgan had had enough, waiting until a man with a bucket of water had walked by before drawing the hood over her head and climbing out of the window.

When she recalled the incident later, Morgan wasn't quite sure if her cloak had caught in the shutter, or if the batty old gossip had pulled the shutter closed on purpose. Either way, her cloak was effectively stuck, jerking her backwards as she tried to sneak away.

"Perfect," she muttered, hastily trying to remove the cloak. From the other side of the house, she heard Poppy's cries.

"Help, someone! An outlaw! Come to rob a poor old woman!" Morgan supposed it was retribution for her lack of information about the Holy Land. Villagers soon poured forth, pitch forks and various makeshift weapons in hand. Morgan panicked, slipping out of the cloak and heading for the woods before she realized what she had done.

"Oy, that's Morgan Weaver! The one that Guy of Gisborne's offering the silver for!" One of the villagers noted, pointing excitedly. Morgan sent her eyes into a familiar, counterclockwise roll, breaking into a run.

"Don't look back, don't look back, don't look back," she chanted to herself, though her neck decided it wasn't a good idea to obey her newly formed mantra. She turned, revealing that the villagers were much closer than she had anticipated.

"I said not to look back. Didn't I say that?" she asked herself, scanning the area ahead. There was an empty old cart, resting at the top of a slop that lead away from the village. Morgan didn't stop to think that maybe there was a reason the cart had been left there, focusing only on the fact that the cart had wheels. Wheels make things go faster. She pushed the small cart forward, just enough that it started its downhill journey, before she leapt inside, tightly clutching the sides.

If there was one thought in her head in the moments following, Morgan voiced it as the cart sped down the hill.

"I've made a huge mistake." She had indeed made a huge mistake. There was indeed a reason that the cart had been abandoned. One of the wheels had come loose, shooting off of the cart nearly halfway down the hill. The cart flipped to the side, forcing Morgan to curl into a ball, tumbling down the rest of the hill by herself.

The villagers had all stopped, staring at the wreck that was playing out before their very eyes. The girl rolled to the bottom of the hill, skidding to a stop at the edge of the forest. To their surprise, she stumbled to her feet, staggering heavily but apparently unharmed. Before they could resume their chase, she had ducked into the trees, disappearing from sight.

"Cor blimey," one of the villagers managed, "She's absolutely mad!" An amused, crackling voice laughed from behind the crowd. Poppy was hobbling up to the mob, staring after Morgan.

"Absolutely mad? You could say that," she began, knowing that people would listen if she could perk their interests with the vague beginnings of one of her infamous stories. "You'll never believe what I've heard about her!"

---

The Sheriff was in a good mood. In one day alone, he'd captured Robin Hood and his hang, put out a bounty on the lovely, little blacksmith, eaten a particularly delicious plum, and arrested a man with poor taste in hats. He reclined in his chair, addressing Gisborne without looking.

"Gisborne, have you caught the lovely, little blacksmith yet?" No reply. The Sheriff sighed, rubbing his temples, calling over a guard.

"Sir Guy hasn't returned yet, my lord," the guard explained. The Sheriff gave the guard a swift slap to the head, knocking the man's helmet off.

"You, pretend to be Gisborne," he ordered, finding that he almost missed the younger man's presence. A clue: no. The guard did seem rather confused.

"My lord?"

"Oh, you know. Stand over there. Brood. Occasionally, whine like a little girl," the Sheriff rattled off, mulling it over to make sure he hadn't missed any of Gisborne's more notable traits. It probably would've been easier if he'd actually paid attention to Gisborne half the time, but he didn't. Just as the guard had taken to standing where the left tenet usually stood, the man himself walked into the room.

"My lord, news from Nettlestone," he reported, casting a confused look at the stand-in Gisborne. The Sheriff broke into a smile, speaking to the guard without looking.

"You're fired," he muttered. "Now, Gisborne, tell me that you have succeeded! Tell me that the lovely, little blacksmith is down in the dungeon." He rubbed his hands together, waiting for Gisborne to tell him. But Gisborne didn't.

"Morgan appeared in Nettlestone. They chased her, but she escaped into the woods," he recounted, crossing his arms over his chest with a smile. The Sheriff was thrown by this. Why was Gisborne still smiling like a lunatic? He ignored as Gisborne's boy, Alvin, or something, walked into the chamber, standing back so as not to interrupt.

"Well, spit it out, Gisborne. I'm assuming there's a reason that you're grinning like a fool, because it certainly isn't because the lovely, little blacksmith is in the dungeon," The Sheriff hissed, quickly losing his patience. Gisborne should've figured out that only he, the Sheriff of Nottingham, was allowed to be dramatic and suspenseful.

"I've discovered the real reason that Morgan fled into the forest," Gisborne announced. Behind him, Allan tried to hide his look of shock. If Gisborne had figured out about Morgan and the Holy Land, she was in far more danger than he had thought.

"Hood." Gisborne said triumphantly. "The villagers all confirmed that she is romantically involved his Robin Hood. It all makes sense, my lord." Allan went from hiding his shock to stifling his laughter. Morgan and Robin? Why would that ever make sense? Gisborne continued.

"All this time, we've suspected that someone was feeding Hood and his gang information. It was Morgan all along. It makes sense. She started working here around the same time that Hood showed up. She interacted with all of the guards, so she knew what has happening." The Sheriff had grown bored with Gisborne's exposition and had started crossing his eyes. Two Gisbornes. One Gisborne. Two Gisbornes. One Gisborne.

"Blah di blah di blah," he interrupted. "Don't care how your go about it, Gisborne, just see that she hangs in the morning with the rest of them." Allan's internal laughter stopped immediately. He had to talk to Morgan.

---

I don't think I've mentioned it, but I love writing for the Sheriff. He's just so surly and uncaring.


	3. Fine

Here's the next chapter. I know it seems like everything's wrapping up, but there should be a few more chapters after this. This chapter is pretty Marian-driven, which makes me smile because Marian rocks my socks. Enjoy!

---

Everything was spinning. Morgan leaned against a tree, shaking her head. That certainly didn't help. Despite her best efforts, she hit all fours, breathing deeply, trying to stop the waves of pain.

She was somewhere close to the camp, hat much she knew. But everything was running together in front of her.

"The cart was a bad idea," she admitted aloud. She was surprised that someone answered her.

"Yeah, I heard about that bit. Everyone in Nettlestone thinks you're mad." Morgan felt him hook her under the arms, pulling her to her feet.

"Very… very fun…" she tried to say, blinking as spots cropped up in front of her eyes. Allan put a hand to her forehead, checking for a fever.

"Morgan, are you alright?" he asked, scooping her into his arms. She nodded, but it seemed to cause her pain, so she stopped.

"I bumped me head earlier. I'll be fine," she muttered. Allan wasn't so sure about that, but there were slightly more pressing matters at hand.

"We need to talk, Morgan. It's important," he said gently.

"Yeah, alright. Take me back to the camp," she mumbled, laying her head against his chest.

---

Marian heard the rumors about Robin and the blacksmith, recognizing instantly that something was wrong. They had only just met one another a few days ago, there was no way that Guy's theory could be correct. That, and the fact that Marian herself was the informant that they'd been searching for. Marian kept her smile to herself, watching the gate.

She'd been able to lose her guard. The Sheriff was keeping them busy, what with Robin and company in the dungeon. She'd watched as Allan A Dale had slipped out, the way he moved indicating that he did not wish to be seen. Marian had to admit, that if she hadn't been looking for him, she may not have seen him.

She followed after him, pulling her hood up, completing her transformation into the Night Watchman. Robin had told her that Allan was the traitor. Though she didn't know his gang very well, Allan did seem the most likely. He was… slippery. Marian nodded. Slippery seemed to be appropriate.

She followed him into the woods, careful not to get too close, not wanting her footsteps to alert him to her presence. He walked with purpose, moving slowly, looking for something. Suddenly, he banked to the right, speeding up, spotting whatever it was he was looking for.

Marian hung back, hearing Allan talking to someone. She vaguely remembered the voice. Allan began walking back in her direction. She hid behind a tree, waiting for him to pass.

"You can come out, Marian. I won't say a word to anyone," Allan called. Marian froze. The man had betrayed Robin. King Richard, even! He expected her to trust him? Allan seemed to understand what was going on and sighed. "Marian, I won't say anything. I need your help." The pleading tone in his voice was sincere. Marian stepped out from her hiding place, spotting Allan. He was cradling the girl in his arms, holding her protectively close.

"She hit her head. Not being funny, but something's wrong," he explained. Marian stepped forward, pulling off her hood and mask. The girl was barely conscious, her hand closed lightly around Allan's shirt.

"I already said that I'm fine," she insisted.

"We need to get her to a place where she can lie down," Marian said calmly. Allan nodded his head at a nearby tree.

"Behind that tree. There's a lever. Pull it," he said. Marian followed his gaze, reaching behind the tree, feeling around until she found the lever. The forest floor in front of them rose, revealing the outlaws' camp. Allan hesitated before stepping over the threshold, walking into the last place he thought he'd ever go again.

Instinctively, he walked to his loft, gently placing Morgan down, holding her by the shoulder to stop her from trying to stand.

"I'm fine," she muttered again.

"Morgan, stop being stubborn. You need to sit still for a bit," he said firmly. Marian stepped forward, checking Morgan's head. There was a bump towards the back, and the girl winced when Marian touched it.

"You'll be fine. Just sit still for a few moments and relax," she instructed. Morgan held up her hands, surrendering.

"Fine. What did you need to talk about, Allan?" she changed the subject, squinting over at her friend.

"There's a rumor going about that you and Robin are together. Guy's going to use Robin to draw you out," Allan said. Morgan frowned.

"Wait, back up. Me? And Robin?" Marian nodded.

"I've heard the same. With or without you, the Sheriff plans to hang them in the morning," she added. Morgan looked between Marian and Allan, a look of intense thought touching her features.

"Not being funny, but what am I meant to do about it?" she asked, "I can't just walk in and ask them if they'd kindly let Robin and the rest go." Allan almost smiled. She did have a point.

"Well, we can't just give up," Marian pointed out. "We can come up with something. Look, all we really have to do is find a way to get them out of the castle."

"All of the old exits will be guarded," Allan said, rubbing his chin. "I told Guy all of the usual places." Marian tried not to frown at him. As much as she disagreed with him, their goals seemed to line up. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to think of a way to save Robin. Much. Will. Djaq. Little John.

This was ridiculous, something as stupid as a lie had been able to take down Robin.

"Something as stupid as a lie," Marian whispered. She narrowed her eyes. "A lie." She broke into a smile.

"A lie!" she repeated. Allan and Morgan exchanged glances, looking at the noble lady. They seemed to exchange an entire conversation through their eyes, ending with Morgan looking quickly between Allan and Marian. Allan nodded.

"Not being funny, but what are you talking about?"

"They used a lie to capture them. We can use a lie to get them out," Marian explained. "Guy wants to lure Morgan in using Robin. I say we use it to our advantage. Morgan, you allow yourself to be captured. Allan, you take her back to the castle. I'll go at the same time, under the pretense of visiting my father. I'll pick a fight with you, Morgan."

"Right. Everyone knows that you were engaged to Robin before, so it'd make sense if Morgan was mad about it. She is, after all, wildly in love with Robin," Allan smirked. Morgan rolled her eyes.

"Aye, so I try and jump you. The jailer is bound to try and stop me," Morgan spoke up, "What then?"

"Well, you're a lawless outlaw now. You can fight with him. Allan pulls you off, grabs the key, puts you in the cell, and insists that the jailer seek medical attention. That will give you the opportunity to get out of the dungeon," Marian smiled. It was a simple plan, but it only brought them halfway.

"That still doesn't get them out safely. I already told you, I told Guy everything," Allan brought up.

"No, you only told him all the ways that you knew of to get out of the castle. There is another way," Marian corrected, a smile curving her lips.

---

Marian had no trouble slipping back into the castle. Everything was in place, she just had to wait on Allan and Morgan. It was odd, working alongside Allan, seeing as he had betrayed Robin and could quite possibly turn her in to the Sheriff at any time. Yet, there was something in the way that he had held Morgan. It was caring and kind. Allan wasn't a truly bad person, Marian decided. He was just selfish.

Marian had never personally experienced poverty, but in her stint as the Night Watchman, she'd become familiar with the things that desperate people did to survive. Allan had probably been living in poverty for a while. Marian shook her head. It was detestable, the way that poverty could warp normally good people.

"Yeah, I caught her. Not being funny, but someone had to!" Allan's voice from the gate served as the signal to Marian. She made her journey to the dungeon. The jailer grunted as she entered, pointing uninterestedly at her father's cell. Marian nodded and stopped to say hello to her father, sneaking furtive glances at the cell full of outlaws.

---

"Excellent work, Allan," Gisborne complemented as Allan escorted Morgan into the chamber. The Sheriff was not intrigued, not by a long shot, but he was satisfied to see that the lovely, little blacksmith had arrived in time to hang with the rest of them.

"Morgan," he said, calling to the girl, who had been bound and gagged. "Come to save your secret love? Touching. A clue: no." Morgan growled a response, the gag in her mouth preventing her from forming real words.

"Well, you'll get to see him again. As a matter of fact, I think that we can have you hanged next to each other," The Sheriff nodded matter-of-factly. That got her going. She stepped forward, grumbling through her gag. Allan grabbed her shirt, stopping her from moving forward. The Sheriff decided that he hated her the least. It was always the most fun when he got a reaction. Not like Hood. He would stand there and take it, doing his best "stoic" act. Boring.

"Go on, take the gag off of her. Let her speak her mind," he ordered. Allan shrugged, pulling the gag from her mouth.

"I will rip the lungs from your chest with me bare hands! You are by far the most low, dirty, disgusting, vile piece of trash I've ever seen in me life!" The Sheriff let her carry on for another minute or so before sighing.

"Bored now. Take her to the dungeon," he dismissed. Allan nodded, guiding Morgan to the dungeons, feeling his stomach drop as Gisborne followed.

"Morgan, I gave you more credit than this. Siding with a band of outlaws. Speaking against authority. Shame on you, Gisborne taunted, sneering at her. Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"At least I'm true to who I am. What happened to you, Guy? You used to be human," she retorted. Gisborne glared.

"And look where all of your truth has gotten you. A dungeon." Allan opened the door, pushing Morgan through. She pushed back, resisting long enough to slip in a final comment.

"Your mum would be so proud of you, Guy," she hissed. Gisborne stood in shock as she disappeared into the dungeon. That was just cruel of her.

---

The new jailer wasn't much of a talker, Allan reflected. He took note of Marian, catching her gaze and nodding. He untied Morgan, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her towards the cell where the rest of the gang watched. Marian folded her arms in front of her, shaking her head.

"Morgan, I can't believe it. You, running about with him?" Marian asked, pointing at Robin. "Even if he is an outlaw, he's still of noble blood." The jailer picked up on the snobbish tone, turning towards them with something akin to interest. Morgan looked Marian up and down.

"Yeah, and what of it? You saying I'm not good enough for him?" she asked. The jailer stepped forward.

"This is the one that everyone's been talking about? Robin Hood's love?" Robin's eyes widened. Was the jailer talking about Morgan? Allan nodded.

"This is her. Took me all day to track her down," he said, holding Morgan by the arms. Marian scoffed.

"Honestly, it's pathetic," she remarked, fixing Morgan with a stare of disgust. "Satisfied with being a second choice."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Morgan asked, tilting her head to the side, her eyes narrowing.

"Well, he was engaged to me first. And, honestly, do you think he'd choose someone like you over someone like me?" Marian replied flippantly. The commotion erupted without warning. Morgan jolted forward, slipping out of Allan's grasp and launching herself at Marian.

The jailer moved to pull her off, only to get hit around the face and tackled to the floor. Allan pulled her off of the jailer, turning her about and hitting her in the stomach. She slumped over, clutching her stomach as Allan threw her into the jail cell, slamming the door shut.

"Are you alright, Lady Marian?" he asked. Marian nodded, and Allan turned his attention to the jailer.

"Not being funny, but she really got the drop on you. C'mon. We'll go see the physician," he ordered, picking the jailer up. The jailer nodded, bewildered, allowing Allan to escort him from the dungeon. Marian spared a nod at Robin before leaving herself.

"What was that all about?" Robin asked, nudging Morgan in the shoulder. Morgan stood, moving her hand from her stomach, clutching the keys in her hands.

"Marian's idea," she smiled, jingling the keys.

"And the bit about you and Robin?" Much asked. Morgan shrugged.

"There's a silly rumor going about," she nodded. "Now, listen up, cause here's the rest of Marian's plan."


	4. Unbelievable

I'm going to apologize in advance. My updates will be coming a little slower than usual, mostly because I have finals coming up in the next few weeks. Blugh. At any rate, I'll do my best to finish this story as soon as I can. I figure I've got two chapters after this.

---

The three men entered the dungeon, carrying large barrels of water. They set them down, preparing to walk out, when panicked cries brought their attention to the largest, most crowded cell in the whole jail.

"Help! You've got to help!" The water bearers watched as the Saracen woman waved frantically to them, reaching through the bars to signal them over. "He collapsed!" The outlaws seemed to be crowded around one of their own, though the water bearers couldn't tell who it was.

"People collapse in here all the time. It's a dungeon," the tallest of the water bearers said uncaringly.

"Yeah, well, imagine how mad the Sheriff will be if one of Robin Hood's men dies before he gets the chance to hang him! Especially if you had the chance to save him!" That came from Robin Hood himself. The water bearers looked to one another.

"It's not a good idea," one of them said.

"Oh, and what if he dies and the Sheriff send you to the gallows in his place?" Another pointed out.

"Both of you shut up. We go, make sure that he's not going to die, and we leave. What are they going to do to us? They're in a jail cell," the tallest reassured. The men walked over to the cell, peeking cautiously inside. It was the skinny one, the carpenter. He looked pretty bad.

"Bring water, all of you!" the men would not have obeyed this command, but it came from the one called Little John. On the off chance that the outlaws could escape their fate, something for which they displayed a natural talent, the water bearers did not want to wind up on his bad side.

They took the ladles from their belts and drew some water, taking it back to the cell. The Saracen woman took one of them, carefully pouring it down the carpenter's throat. He stirred a bit, but didn't wake up. Robin's right-hand man, Much, took the second, ultimately to the same effect. The little snippy one, the only other girl, took the final ladle. She looked between it and the carpenter before shrugging and dumping the contents on his face.

"Morgan!" Much snapped. The accused shrugged sheepishly, hastily handing the ladle to Robin, as though that would shift the blame.

"That's how me mum used to wake me up," she mumbled. The carpenter sputtered for a moment, slowly rubbing at his eyes before sitting up.

"There. He's awake. Now, can you give us our ladles back?" As soon as the question left the water bearer's mouth, he wished that he hadn't asked.

---

There was something satisfying about the way that the ladles made a thick, clunking noise as they hit the water bearers over the heads. The men collapsed, hitting the dungeon floor with a thud. The beauty of Marian's plan was that it didn't involve a huge fight, which would've been loud and noisy. Robin reminded himself to kiss her when he saw her, not that he wasn't going to anyway.

Will sat up, pulling the keys out from under his back. He selected the correct key, opening the cell. The outlaws went to work immediately, dragging the water bearers into the cells and taking their uniforms. While Robin, Little John, and Much slipped the uniforms on over their clothes, Djaq, Will, and Morgan popped open the water barrels They weren't full to the brim, but when they factored in them, and the weapons that Will was retrieving from the far corner of the dungeon, Djaq and Morgan started dispensing water to the prisoners.

"Everyone ready?" Robin asked. There were nods all about, and Robin once again reminded himself to kiss Marian when he next saw her.

---

They made it to the portcullis before they heard anyone even call for guards. John held his quarter staff behind his back as the guards ran past. Being as tall as the man himself, it simply didn't fit in the barrels. As soon as they were past the gate, they paused, grinning back at the castle. They stretched their arms, relieving them from the weight of the barrels.

"You there, stop!" they froze, turning mid-stretch to see a guard.

"You need something?" Much asked. The guard scratched his head.

"No, but you gents best be careful. The outlaws have gotten loose." He cautioned, running towards the castle. "They brought in Mad Morgan 'bout an hour or so. Word is that she was trying to break in on her own and free her lover. Can you believe it? She worked in the castle for months, and none of us would've pinned her for being with Robin Hood."

The barrel lid behind Much began to rise. Much quickly sat on top of the barrel, speaking loudly to drown out the muffled "ouch."

"Yeah, it's really unbelievable!" he nodded. The guard smiled and continued on his path to the castle. Much hopped off of the barrel, lifting the top.

"Are you trying to get us caught?" he hissed. Morgan frowned.

"Mad Morgan? What kind of name is that?" she asked, climbing out of the barrel, dripping water everywhere. Will and Djaq came out of their respective barrels, handing out the weapons. The group quickly made out of Nottingham. Robin caught up to Morgan, who was silently fuming.

"Morgan, what did you find out about Roger of Stoke?" he asked, trying to get her mind of off the agitating nickname. Morgan stopped short, turning wide, apologetic eyes to Robin. He didn't need to hear her say it to know what had happened.

"Sorry, Robin. Gisborne caught him while he was heading out of Locksley," she reported, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Was he a friend?"

"He was. He was also carrying a letter to the Holy Land. A very important letter," Robin trailed off. Morgan chewed her bottom lip.

"This is rotten. The whole of it. I'm sorry, Robin," she said, chewing at her lower lip. "And to think, I had to deal with that gossip, and all I got was bad news." Robin furrowed his brow.

"What gossip?" he asked. Morgan pulled the headband from her hair, wringing the black locks out.

"Poppy. She lives in Nettlestone. There's not a good story that she doesn't know. Sells gossip. She can take anything and make a scene of…" Morgan stopped talking, as if something had clicked in her head. Robin shook her by the shoulder.

"Morgan, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Robin, I'm so sorry! I should've realized why she kept asking about it earlier. I didn't know that she was going to start a rumor! Well, that's not true. I knew she was going to start a rumor, but I didn't think that she would say that we were…" Robin held up a hand, stemming the flood of an apology that Morgan was giving him.

"Are you saying that the whole reason that everyone thinks that we're in love is some gossiping old woman?" Morgan nodded.

"Please don't be mad. I can go and clear all of this up, and everyone will know that it was just a rumor." Robin grinned widely, grabbing either side of her face and kissing her on the forehead, jogging into the woods, heading towards camp. Morgan stared after him for a moment.

"Not being funny, but that's not going to help stop the rumors," she muttered, replacing her headband and following after Robin.

---

The Sheriff was sleeping. He enjoyed sleeping because it meant that he didn't have to listen to Gisborne's constant complaining. He didn't have to deal with Robin Hood. He didn't have to resist the urge to stab the idiot guards for existing. He just had to lay his pretty head down on his comfortable pillow and close his eyes.

Unfortunately, his sleeping was often interrupted by "Robin Hood" this and "outlaws" that. So, when Gisborne burst into the room, pointing, ready to start yammering away, the Sheriff knew what he was going to say and tossed his pillow at the younger man.

"I want to know how! I want to know who! Get you little friend, Alton, and get things done!" he yelled.

"His name is Allan," Gisborne corrected. The Sheriff threw another pillow.

"I don't care if his name Pope Bleedin' Gregory! Do as I say!" he barked angrily. Gisborne left the room as quick as possible, shaking his head. He walked down the halls, dispatching soldiers as he went. He found Allan in the kitchens, snacking on some bread. Gisborne snatched the bread from his hands, ignoring his protests.

"Robin Hood and his gang have escaped. I thought you said that you told me all of their normal escape routes," he snarled, grabbing Allan by the collar. Allan stared back, raising his hands.

"Hey, calm down. I told you all the ways that I knew about. You seem to forget, they've got Morgan with them now. She worked in the castle. She's bound to know more than me," he explained. Gisborne took a deep breath, releasing Allan.

"There's no way that they're still here," Allan pointed out, "So, what do we do?" Gisborne turned away from Allan for a moment, calming himself before speaking.

"Where are they camping?" he asked. Allan shrugged.

"Don't know. We always moved around," he said flatly. "I doubt that they're still where I left them."

"The usual spots, then," Gisborne snapped. Allan nodded, wiping his hands on the stiff fabric of his vest.

"Right, the usual spots," he repeated, pushing past Gisborne and leaving the room.

---

The gang stood outside of Nettlestone, staring at the cottage in the village's center. Will was surprised that he'd never heard of Poppy before, then again, he wasn't exactly one to listen to gossip. He never understood people who gossiped. Gossip only led to trouble, just like this whole mess with Robin and Morgan. Will spared a sideways glance at the girl.

He couldn't figure her out. With other girls, it was easy. There were dainty girls, and there were strong girls. Dainty girls that only cared about their appearance. Strong girls, who acted like they were boys. Like Djaq.

Will shook his head. No, not like Djaq. Djaq was Djaq. She was strong. She could do all of the things that a boy could do. She was beautiful. Her appearance had changed to something unapologetically feminine. She was also smart. She knew alchemy, medicines. She was just so… She was Djaq. Will was glad it was dark; he could feel the blush creep into his cheeks. He brought himself back to his original thought.

Morgan. She was just odd. She hardly struck him as the type to listen to gossip, yet here they were, standing outside of a gossiper's house. She displayed a fierce sense of loyalty when Allan did not, yet they were best friends. Though, the way she talked about Allan, Will suspected that she hoped for something more. He shook his head. She was just odd.

"Morgan, how do you know this woman?" he asked. Morgan smirked.

"Me mum grew up with her. I don't visit her unless I have to," she explained, not taking her eyes off of the small cottage.

"Why would you have to?" Will asked. Morgan's gaze dropped to the ground, her smirk falling slightly.

"Personal reasons," she said, mostly avoiding a real answer. Will looked to Djaq, shook her head.

"Robin, what exactly are we doing here?" Much asked. Robin pointed at the cottage.

"Morgan saw her earlier today. She said a few careless words, and by the afternoon, the rumors had spread to Nottingham," Robin recapped.

"I did say I was sorry, though," Morgan piped up.

"Yes, you did. Now, the Sheriff fooled us with a lie today. I suggest that we return the favor," Robin smiled.

---

Allan led the men to all the old campsites, pretending to grow more and more frustrated as the search yielded no results.

"I'm not being funny, but this is getting ridiculous," he said loudly, almost yelling at the guards like it was their fault. He was starting to understand why the Sheriff and Gisborne liked to yell. It was kind of fun. He shook his head. He couldn't go down that road. Regardless of what he had already done, there was no way he could let himself start thinking like them.

"Sir, I don't think that we're going to find them," one of the men suggested. Allan heaved a sigh.

"There's one more place to check," he promised, heading towards the cave. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat. The last time he'd been there, he'd fought against the Sheriff. The men that rode with him now caught up to him, having finished setting the traps that they'd been laying down at the various camp sites. They were groaning amongst themselves, clearly tired, clearly annoyed. Allan was pretty sure most of them had tried to kill him at one point, so he didn't particularly mind making them walk through the woods at night.


	5. Caring

The next chapter should serve as a wrap-up for this story. Unfortunately, college homework is like a sneaky ninja that sneaks up and ninjas you in that back, to the point where it's three in the morning, and you just sit up and go, "Oh, crap! That's today!" That being said, I'll try to get the next chapter in really soon. After that, there will probably be a slight break in pace before I post the next story.

---

"I am glad that you're okay, Morgan," Poppy smiled, beaming at the sight in front of her. Morgan was back, and she had brought Robin Hood with her. Oh, if this didn't support her story, she didn't know what did. "And this is Robin?"

Morgan nodded stiffly. Poppy laughed. Morgan always wore her heart on her sleeve. It made her an invaluable source of information. Right now, she was angry. The way she stood gave her away, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.

"Poppy, we need you to tell everyone that you were mistaken about us," Robin requested. The old woman laughed.

"And why would I do that? It's just a harmless little story. No harm done," Poppy waved dismissively.

"It isn't harmless. You've put Morgan in a great deal of danger. The Sheriff and his men will use her to get to me," Robin explained. Poppy shook her head.

"The Sheriff is already after her. There isn't any harm in the story, not unless Morgan plans on finally telling Allan that she loves him. When you do, Morgan, I want to know" she chuckled. If looks could kill, Morgan's would've killed Poppy faster then a slit throat.

"Poppy, take it back, or so help me," she started, turning red from a mix of embarrassment and anger. Mostly embarrassment. Did the old crone really have to say that?

"Oh, stop, Morgan. We both know that you won't do anything about it. We both know that it is true. And we both know that there's only one way I'll take back the story about the two of you." Morgan opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She pointed angrily and tried again. Finally, she turned around, pushing past Robin and leaving the cottage. Poppy didn't seem to care, turning her attention to Robin.

"What about you, darling? I'll take the story back if you have information from the Holy Land." She offered.

"Information from the Holy Land?" Robin asked. Poppy nodded.

"Fine, what do you want to know?" he said casually.

"Anything and everything."

---

Morgan stalked out of the cottage, stomping out of the village, stopping by the gang. Much stared at her angry approach.

"Morgan, are you alright?" he asked. Morgan sat down next to him, all of her anger disappearing in a split second. She smiled.

"Yeah, fine. Everything's in order," she nodded. "Robin asked me to look mad, just in case she decided to watch." Much shook his head. She was just so odd.

"You know something, Much?" Morgan asked, pulling her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her knees.

"What?" Much asked.

"This is fun," she commented.

"What is?" Much asked, not sure that he wanted to know the answer.

"This," she spread her arms to indicate… well, Much still wasn't sure what she was trying to say. "Fighting against the Sheriff. Breaking out of jail. Being part of a gang. I've not been in a gang since…" Morgan stopped talking, but her smile was still there. "Well, that's hardly the point."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Much grinned. She was just so odd.

---

Allan was glad to be back at the castle. They had come too close to the camp for his comfort. Honestly, he didn't want to think about when one of the guards had actually stepped on the roof of the hidden camp. He pulled a hand across his face, shaking his head. Too close.

He made a mental note to tell Morgan about the traps the next time that he saw her. Sure, they didn't camp in the woods anymore, but they did go hunting. Hunting. Allan laughed to himself. That's how his journey had started. Hunting in the woods. Robin had saved one of his fingers, then his life. Allan pushed the thought from his head.

"Did you find them?" Guy of Gisborne asked, walking towards him.

"No, but we laid traps," Allan reported. Gisborne nodded, though it wasn't the answer that he'd been looking for. He was too tired to argue with Allan. The man had an annoying habit of sliding out of questions, and Gisborne had a headache.

"Guy, are you alright?" Allan asked. Gisborne nodded.

"Fine," he muttered, stepping around him and walking off. Allan had told enough lies to know that Gisborne had just told a big one, but he wasn't about to ask him about it. Gisborne wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine.

---

Gisborne ran his hands through his hair. It hadn't been that late when the outlaws had broken out. It was late now, though, and Morgan's comment was still bothering him. She had always been vicious in a fight, especially one of words. He knew her well enough to know that she rarely meant the things that she said in an argument. She just never stopped to think about what she was saying.

_"Your mum would be so proud of you, Guy."_ Of all of the things she could've said, she had to say that. Guy had good memories of his childhood, but his happiness had ended so cruelly that he didn't like to think about them. When he was very young, his mother had called in a weaver. The weaver was a funny man, and he'd brought his son with him. Guy hadn't had very many friends, and his mother had instantly spotted the connection between her son and the weaver's.

His mother had been a kind woman. She was compassionate and gentle, a perfect contrast to Guy's father. His father hadn't been a bad man, but he was a strict, allowing no room for mistakes. Still, he'd always let Guy play with Michael.

_"That lad's a good influence, Guy."_ Michael was well-mannered, friendly, honest. Painfully honest, when Guy remembered it. Guy was glad for that. He doubted that his father would've let him associate with the boy otherwise. Guy chuckled. If his father had met Morgan first, he probably would never have been allowed to go to Michael's house.

---

"Wait here, then. I'll go let me mum know I've come home. Then, we can go play in the creek," Michael called, bounding into his little cottage. Guy looked at it. When he grew up, he'd make sure his friend got a bigger house.

"Hallo, there!" Guy looked over at the speaker, a little girl.

"Hello, miss," he said politely, bowing. The girl giggled, crouching so that she could look him in the eye.

"Did you drop something?" she asked, looking on the ground in case he had. Guy stood. Didn't this girl know that you were supposed to curtsy in the presence of nobility?

"No, I haven't dropped anything. Who are you?" he asked. The girl stood as well, grinning widely.

"Me name's Morgan. Morgan Weaver. Are you a friend of Michael's?" she asked, absently playing with her hair.

"Yes. My name is Guy of Gisborne," he replied. The girl tilted her head to the side, making the connection.

"So, you're a noble. I think I want to grow up to be a noble," she commented. Guy was puzzled by the odd little girl.

"You can't just grow up and be a noble. It's not a job," he told her.

"Oh. Well, that's ok. What're you and Michael up to?" she asked.

"Oy, Morgan!" Michael called from the doorway of the cottage, swiftly walking over to them. "Stop bothering him." The girl's hands flew to her hips.

"I wasn't either!" she snapped. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, Guy. This is me little sister. Do you want to go to the creek now?" he quickly introduced. Morgan made a loud sort of groaning sound.

"Michael, don't be dumb. Mum says that it's too cold to go to the creek. You'll get sick," she said. "Allan and Tom are about. We could have a play fight."

"A fight? With swords?" Guy asked, turning on heel to consult with Michael, who shook his head.

"No, we don't have swords. That's dangerous. We use sticks," he explained. "Watch Allan and Tom, though. They're tricky."

---

Guy barely remembered the rest of the day. It was merely a tangle of play fighting and sticks and laughing. He got on his horse, setting off towards Locksley, Allan not too far behind him.

"Allan, tomorrow I want you to keep your ears open. Perhaps the outlaws are avoiding the forest. Some villagers may have seen them, if that's the case. Morgan was spotted in Nettlestone yesterday; you may want to start there." He advised, breaking the silence that had fallen during the ride. Allan took in the orders, stifling a yawn. He missed being able to sleep when he wanted.

"Will do," he muttered. What had Morgan been doing in Nettlestone in the first place? By the time they'd entered Locksley, he had made his decision. As soon as he was sure that Guy was asleep, he snuck out of the small house he'd been provided with, heading out of the village that, like him, had switched allegiance from Robin to Guy. He wasn't sure where he was heading, he just knew that he was going to see Morgan.

---

It was a whole hour before Robin emerged from Poppy's cottage. Much was relieved, hesitant to leave Robin in there by himself, especially based on what Morgan had said about the old woman. Robin walked with how bow across his shoulders, which always reminded Much of how he'd turned himself in at Locksley the year before. On the one hand, it was arrogant and obnoxious. One the other hand, it meant that he knew what he was doing.

Much sighed with relief, standing and stretching, gathering his things. He was the first to do so. Then again, he was always the first to do so, because he was always the first to see Robin, to know his intent. But this was expected. Much had been in the Holy Land with Robin for five years, and he had been his servant for even longer than that. Though, "servant," most of the gang agreed, was not the right word for Much.

The terms by which they defined Much ranged from Will's appreciative "caretaker," to Allan's joking "mother hen." It all amounted to the same thing. Much was the glue. Everyone in the group had a different personality, and Much kept them together. Initially, he did everything to help Robin. Robin cared about the group, and so, in turn, did Much. But it wasn't a distant sort of caring. It was something genuine. He'd developed bonds with everyone in the group. That's why he took care of them. That's why, even though they picked on him all the time, the gang would do anything to take care of Much.

"About time, Master. I was starting to worry," he said, his voice carrying on the night air. Robin smiled.

"Time to disappear," he replied, stirring the others to move. They trudged toward the forest, ready to return to the camp and get some rest.

---

Morgan wasn't sure at which point she'd fallen behind, but she had a hunch that it'd been when she had glanced up at the sky. The moon was just starting to wane, but its light shone gently on her face. She used to look at the stars during the summers, lying on a blanket just outside her village, laughing and joking with Michael and Allan and Tom.

Michael would talk about traveling the world, the only time he would ever hint at wanting more in life than weaving. Tom would talk about the pretty girl that he'd met recently. Morgan would laugh and call Tom a liar, which he always denied at first. Allan, though, was quiet. He'd just stare into space and listen to his friends, smiling, but never speaking.

By the time Morgan had processed these thoughts, the group had gotten a good distance ahead of her. Her hand went to the tag at her neck. She liked her new friends, but they could never replace her old ones. She suddenly felt inexplicably sad. Her old friends. Guy, who had been so deeply affected by the death of his parents that he had never really recovered. Morgan would never again be able to jokingly tug on his hair and tell him that he should let her braid it. Tom, who had always been hard-headed and unbending. Morgan would never again be able to call him a liar and then laugh as he scrambled to make up a story to prove her wrong.

Michael, who she hadn't seen in over a year. She forced herself not to think about Michael. He'd come back from the Holy Land, she just knew it. He had to come back. He told her that he would, and Michael never lied. There was Allan. This hadn't been Morgan's reflections, but rather an observation of the moment. There was Allan. He was leaning against a tree, hands in his pockets, patiently waiting.

"Morgan, can you talk?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. Morgan always had time for him. Even when she didn't, she'd make the time.

"Moon looks pretty tonight," he noted casually, pulling a blanket from the bag at his side. Just like the summers past, they spread the blanket on the ground, lying down and staring towards the heavens. By either force of habit or a sign of respect, they settled diagonally from one another, leaving two empty spaces on the blanket. One for Tom and one for Michael.

"Allan, I miss them," Morgan admitted. Allan didn't say anything, but he got up and moved, lying down next to her, glancing at her before returning his gaze to the sky. There was a comfortable silence.

"Allan, do you reckon that Tom is doing this right now? Lying on a cloud, looking down at us?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, probably," he replied. Even though he'd asked her to talk, there wasn't much talking between the two.

"Morgan, I don't understand," Allan finally muttered angrily. "Why couldn't they give me another chance?"

"Because they were hurt, Allan," she said simply. Allan sat up suddenly.

"Why?" the question was angry and demanding. Morgan pulled herself into a sitting position, listening as he released something that he'd been holding back. "Why were they hurt? You only get hurt if you care about someone! If you care about someone, you don't just toss them out on their own! They tossed me out, so they didn't care about me! So why were they hurt?" Allan stopped, knowing the circular logic that was fueling his rant. "They didn't care. No one really cared." He allowed himself to fall backwards, resting his head on his hands. He looked away from Morgan, suddenly ashamed of his outburst. Morgan laid her head on his chest, hugging him the best she could, considering the fact that they were both lying down.

"I care," she corrected. Allan looked back at her, slowly moving an arm, hugging her close to him. Of course she cared. She always cared. They stayed there for another hour, looking at the stars, gently hugging.

"You should get back, Allan. I don't want you to get in trouble." Morgan yawned. Allan nodded reluctantly, moving his arm so that Morgan could sit up. They stood together and folded the blanket. He didn't say "thank you" or "I appreciate it." He didn't want to insult her. She knew that he was grateful. Instead, he kissed her on the cheek before heading back to Locksley. Morgan smiled, stumbling back to the camp in a daze.


	6. Enough

Allan laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. His quality of life had technically improved since he had joined Gisborne. He had a soft bed in a warm house. He had food everyday, food that wasn't potentially squirrel meat. He had money that he didn't have to give away to the poor. He frowned. He'd lost things, too. He didn't have his friends. He didn't have his freedom. He was tethered to a fate that he didn't want. He was a traitor, a liar, a Judas Iscariot.

He turned onto his stomach, putting his face into his pillow. God, what had he done? He'd sold out, that's what he'd done. Why did Morgan care? Why didn't she turn her back on him, just like the others? Why did she have to defend him at every turn? Couldn't she see that he was no good? Hadn't the countless times that he'd stolen, the countless times he'd lied shown her anything?

Of course, he didn't want her to abandon him. He didn't want to be alone, but he didn't want his traitorous ways to put her in danger. Tom had tried to follow him in his life as an outlaw, and he'd gotten hanged for it. Allan closed his eyes. So many things going wrong, and they were all his fault. He hadn't been brave enough. Much had been wrong about him. He was weak. He was weak all along. He couldn't stand up to Gisborne. He couldn't take the step that Roy had taken.

He clutched the pillow, looking up at the simple, wooden headboard. He knew the carving, the patterns in the wood. Will had made this headboard. He suddenly felt sick. His best friend. He'd put his best friend in danger. He sat up, staring out of the window of the small cottage. He'd put them all in danger. Will, his best friend. Little John, who always laughed at his jokes. Djaq, who had known the whole time and tried to help him. Much, who had kept him fed. Robin, who had saved his life.

It wasn't really about the gold. Sure, he wasn't going to complain about it, but it wasn't really the point. It was because he had been afraid. He had felt scared and betrayed.

"_Hood was here. Did you know? He didn't try to rescue you."_ He had told himself that Gisborne was lying, but a part of him couldn't deal with the possibility that it was true. Could Robin have left him to suffer and die? A part of him railed against the thought. But a part of him whispered in a low voice. _If your own brother could stab you in the back…_ Allan stood, pacing around the cottage, stopping in front of the washing bin, looking into the water. He hadn't slept properly since Robin had thrown him out of the gang. Dark circles were starting to form around his eyes, some of the color draining from his face. It certainly made him look more evil.

"Allan A Dale, what a fool you are," he muttered to himself.

---

"You've seen Allan, then?" Much asked, watching Morgan smiling contentedly as she climbed into the loft. Everyone else had fallen asleep, but Much wouldn't allow himself to. Not until everyone had safely returned to the camp. The girl didn't answer, but her smile told Much all he needed to know. She fell asleep quickly, the smile still curving her lips, one hand resting on her cheek.

Much watched her, shaking his head. How could Allan, who had caused so much trouble, make someone act like that? Morgan had told him that there was a side to Allan that the former outlaw didn't show. Much openly admitted that he couldn't fathom it. He had never been as close to Allan as he had been to the others. Allan picked on him all the time, even when Much had tried to compliment him. He considered the girl that was sleeping in the loft in front of him, shaking his head again. She was so odd.

---

Allan was in Nettlestone early the next morning, riding his horse slowly through the village. Everyone was buzzing with the latest bit of gossip.

"A message from King, that's right." Allan pulled his horse to a stop, listening. "The messenger met with Robin Hood late last night. Said that the kind is going to land in Hastings!" Allan paused. Should he deliver this message to the Sheriff? Endanger the King's life? The pragmatic part of him took over. It didn't matter if he told or not. News would get to Nottingham, anyway. But if he delivered the news, it'd make him look better. There was no harm in telling the Sheriff what he would inevitably find out, right? He was about to ride back to the castle, but another thought stopped him.

Didn't Gisborne say that the rumors about Robin and Morgan came from Nettlestone? The rumor was decidedly not true, so it followed that this news of King Richard could very well be just another rumor. He did not want to be the one to tell the Sheriff something like this if it wasn't true.

He decided to do what he was supposed to be doing, or at least pretend to do what he was supposed to be doing. So he kept his ears open. It proved to be more difficult than he thought, the nights of staying up starting to catch up with him. He rubbed his eyes, riding out of the village. This was ridiculous. He had to get some sleep. God, he missed being able to sleep when he wanted.

---

The Sheriff sat in the Great Hall, eating grapes. Gisborne had just burst in, breathless. He was waving frantically, a manic grin twisting his lips. Honestly, the Sheriff was a little scared. The last time he'd seen Gisborne smile like that… Well, Gisborne never smiled like that. Gisborne scowled and grumbled and occasionally whined like a girl.

"Hastings!" The younger man was saying, "We should send funds to Hastings immediately!" The Sheriff hoped that Gisborne wouldn't wet himself. He certainly looked like he was going to. The Sheriff wrinkled his nose. Why couldn't he have a normal henchman?

"Hastings?" the Sheriff asked in relative monotone when compared with Gisborne's frenetic announcement. Gisborne nodded.

"News has arrived from the Holy Lands. A messenger confirmed that King Richard will arrive in Hastings." The Sheriff felt the grin dancing across his face as he stood, joining Gisborne in his bizarre, flailing dance.

"Hastings!" he shouted. "This calls for a feast, Gisborne! Assemble the Black Knights!" Gisborne started to move, but the Sheriff promptly stopped the bizarre, flailing dance and gave him a sharp swat to the back of the head.

"A clue: no. Where's the proof?" he asked. He was sure that Gisborne would've caught on to his sarcasm earlier. The poor boy. He did try so very hard.

"Proof, Gisborne. I will not send any funds to Hastings until I have proof that King Richard intends to land there," The Sheriff expounded. Gisborne pulled a letter from his pocket, clearly emblazoned with the royal seal. The Sheriff snatched it from his grip, quickly opening it, his eyes racing over the elegant handwriting. He looked back at Gisborne. The younger man didn't wait for him to ask the question.

"I saw Hood running into the forest, soon after the word spread that he had seen the messenger. We were unable to apprehend him, but he did lose this letter. From the King. Telling him where Richard would make his landing," Gisborne reported. The Sheriff gripped the letter like it was the Holy Grail.

"Ready a chest of funds. Now!"

---

Allan was right next to the chest, shifting nervously on his horse. If Robin and the gang attacked, which he was sure they would, he would be right in the line of fire. His eyes were glued on the trees, warily scanning for any sign, ready to get out of the way. As if on cue, a shower of arrows rained down in front of the convoy, causing them to halt.

"Are we interrupting anything important, Gisborne?" Robin called from a ledge, throwing his head back in a laugh. Little John and Much appeared to the right of the convoy, weapons ready. Djaq and Morgan flanked the left side, their swords flashing under the sunlight that trickled through the trees. Robin slid down from the ledge, his grin widening as the guards drew their swords.

"Don't just stand there! Attack!" Gisborne commanded. The men obeyed, making the first move, engaging the outlaws in battle. Allan dismounted his horse, hanging back as the guards near him dropped. Djaq and Morgan seemed to have bonded. Maybe it was a girl thing, but they seemed to move together, understanding where the other would go, keeping each other guarded as they pressed forward. Allan shook his head. Definitely a girl thing.

"You'll not touch that gold, Hood," Gisborne smiled, swinging his sword. Robin stepped to the side as he avoided potentially getting cleaved in half, the grin not leaving his face.

"You always say that Gisborne, but it's never true," he pointed out. Gisborne laughed, ignoring the jab.

"Look around, Hood. You're outnumbered," he shot back. Robin glanced around. Gisborne was right. The guards were doing a fine job of holding the gang off, with Allan right next to the trunk of gold, intent on guarding it, pushing Djaq and Morgan back with no small effort.

Robin steeled himself, making his decision.

"Time to disappear!" he barked. The outlaws looked at him, surprised by the suddenness of the command. They began to back off, waiting on Robin's cue. Robin allowed the fight to continue for another minute before he kicked Gisborne back, slamming him into one of the guards. "My gang, this way!"

By the time Gisborne got back to his feet, the outlaws had gone. He smiled at the trunk, which still sat on its cart. Allan leaned against the cart.

"Not being funny, but that could've been catastrophic," he commented, "At least they didn't make off with the loot." He knocked on the trunk. His eyes widened as he repeated the gesture. The sound was hollow. Gisborne swallowed hard, bracing himself.

"Open it." Allan flipped the trunk open. It was empty.

"Clever beggars," he muttered, picking up the trunk, lifting it so that Gisborne could see the hole in the bottom of the trunk. There was a piece of parchment resting inside. Allan handed it to Gisborne, who slowly opened it. A single word was scrawled across it, partially covered by the King's seal.

_Surprise._

---

Will had waited until the fight had broken out, slipping underneath the cart. He hacked a hole in the bottom of it, hacking another whole in the trunk, holding a sack open underneath it as the gold spilled out. He held the sack close, gently letting it down as it filled, muffling the sound of the coins. The fight dragged on around him, but he ignored it, focusing on the gold. Once he had filled the sack, he replaced it with another, repeating the process. As soon as the trunk emptied out, he slipped back into the woods, dragging the loot behind him as he ducked into the trees.

He allowed himself a small smile. The plan had worked without a hitch. He had created a replica of Kind Richard's seal, using Robin's letter of commendation from his majesty as a reference. Robin had written the letter, stamped it with the seal, and "accidentally" dropped it in front of Gisborne. Djaq had suggested the fight as a cover for the actual heist. Will smiled. It had worked flawlessly.

He distributed the bags of gold to the rest of the gang. Robin grabbed one of the bags, grinning and clapping a hand on Will's shoulder.

"Good work, Will. I didn't even see you!" he smirked, openly impressed. Much followed after, as he always did, taking a bag with a nod. Djaq took the next, affording Will a smile. It was a smile that she reserved for him, though she never knew if he saw it or not. She sometimes wished that he wasn't so quiet, but there was something about his reserved manner that drew her to him. Morgan walked up behind Djaq, nudging her in the shoulder.

"That was fun," she commented loudly, oblivious to the moment that she had just interrupted.

"Yeah, fun," Djaq replied, walking off. Morgan reached for the last bag, the largest one. She tugged at it, struggling to pick it up from the forest floor. She glanced over at Will, who had turned a brilliant shade of red.

"You alright, then, Will?" she asked, tugging fruitlessly at the large bag.

"Fine," Will replied hastily. Little John walked up behind Morgan, shaking his head at her trouble. He gingerly pushed the girl aside, grabbing the bag and slinging it over his shoulder with little effort. Will smirked, giving Morgan a look. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"What? It was heavy!" she defended herself. Will didn't say anything, walking after Little John. Morgan followed, continuing her defense.

"Really it was!"

---

Allan laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had a headache. The Sheriff had yelled at him for hours. Then Gisborne had yelled at him. While on duty, he heard some of the villagers mumbling about him as they walked past.

_"There he is, the traitor. Turned on Robin Hood and all!"_

The nasty little rumors about the traitorous Allan A Dale had spread to the villagers. They no longer looked at him with the same admiration that they had when he was with Robin. Instead, they shot him dirty looks. Allan let them talk. Yes, he'd done wrong. Yes, he'd been the traitor, the liar, the Judas Iscariot. But they didn't know the whole story. They didn't know that he'd been captured and tortured. They didn't know that he'd helped the gang break out of jail. They didn't know that he'd seen Will slide under the cart, that he had heard him emptying out the trunk. But he knew, and, for the moment, that was enough.

Allan smiled, falling into a peaceful sleep for the first time in days.

---

The end! I hope you guys enjoyed it! Thanks to Stripysockz, honestgreenpirate, and jeps for the reviews!

I'm going to start working on the next story as soon as I can, but I still have some things to work out before I start writing.

In the meantime, I'll probably post some one shots and so forth.

Hope you guys keep reading! Tell your friends! Leave reviews! Enjoy life!


End file.
